There's something really wonderful about cooking vegetables for a very long time. If you know how to do it right, that is.

So much of cooking is reactionary. We think about the food our parents prepared for us, or the dishes that restaurants served ten years ago, and smirk about how backwards it all used to be. “Can you believe that people used to cook like that?” we recall smugly.

When I was learning to cook vegetables, the prevailing attitude of teenager-ly culinary defiance could be summed up in two words: crisp-tender. “Our parents cooked vegetables to death,” we snarled, “no wonder we didn't want to eat them!” We vowed to atone for their mushy sins. That meant sautéing kale for the briefest of moments, so that it emerged from the pan still bright green. It meant pulling green beans out of the blanching water so early that they squeaked when you bit into them. Serving raw so many of the vegetables we grew up eating stewed to softness: zucchini, brussels sprouts, collard greens.

But last summer I had an experience with a pot of fat green Romano beans that changed the whole game for me. They were cooked to the point of collapse, completely soft and yielding, a process that took (gasp!) two whole hours. Seasoned with nothing more than olive oil, garlic, and salt (plenty of all three), they were insanely delicious: deeply vegetal, rich and satisfying, completely yielding in texture but maintaining definition. They turned my whole vegetable-cooking world upside down. I didn't miss the crunch. I just wanted more.

I realize now that the reason we didn't like vegetables growing up wasn't because our parents cooked vegetables to death—it was because they cooked them to death badly. They cooked in water. They were afraid of fat. They thought of salt as a controlled substance. With a little care, soft-cooked vegetables can be more satisfying than any raw kale salad could ever dream of being. We developed a formula for long-cooked vegetables so good it had editors' eyes rolling back in their heads—just follow these rules, and you're golden. So go on. Be a rebel: Cook your vegetables to death.

Get Started

First things first, choose your veg wisely. Opt for ones that have plenty of water in them to begin with—as they cook, they’ll release a lot of that water and steam in their own jus for a bit before most of it cooks off, leaving you with a satisfying, well-seasoned, olive oil-infused veggie liquor. The greens of the brassica family really love this cooking method—cabbage, broccoli and rabe, all the kales, those kinds of things—as well as green beans, Romano beans, celery, and summer squash. Cut or tear them into larger pieces so that, even in their softness, they retain some structural integrity—kale leaves can be stripped of their stems and torn in half; small zucchini can be quartered; beans can be left whole.

Fat and Happy

Olive oil is the glue that keeps this recipe together, that which separates rich, silky cooked-to-death vegetables from drab, austere cooked-to-death vegetables. Start with a quarter to a half cup of oil for a pound and a half of vegetables. Use more if you like, but please don’t use less; trust us on this one. And please, don’t use your schmancy first-press finishing oil for this—the cheap stuff will work just fine here.

Season Like You Mean It

Salt! My parents didn’t use it. Maybe your parents didn’t use it. But we do. That’s why our vegetables are good, like the best versions of themselves. Salt generously, and salt often. When you’re tossing the vegetables with oil in the Dutch oven, hit them with a few pinches of kosher salt—the generous kind of pinch, with three fingers, not two. That initial salting not only ensures that they’re well seasoned from the get-go, but also helps to draw water out of the vegetables and into the pot.

Add Aromatics

This dish is about the vegetables, and how the flavors mature and develop over a long time. But that long cooking time also allows you to add small amounts of a few choice flavor boosters right at the beginning, and let them suffuse the finished dish with even, subtle flavor. A few crushed garlic cloves are a no-brainer, and a small pinch of chile flakes can do wonders to perk up an otherwise rich, low-tone dish. A couple of mashed anchovy fillets, a pinch of fennel seed, or a strip of citrus peel would not be unwelcome, either.

Be Gentle

A gentle touch is the difference between sweet, silky soft-cooked vegetables with some structural integrity and ones that are just…overcooked. You want to start over the lowest possible flame—the vegetables won’t even sizzle at first—and allow them to luxuriate in a covered Dutch oven for a full two hours. Check in on things every half an hour or so (but not more, please). Let a little bit of the steam out, mix them gingerly so that you don’t break the vegetables up, and add a little oil if the situation seems dry. And then…they’re done! Season again with salt—remember: like you mean it!—serve your now soft, silky vegetables hot or at room temperature, and blow minds.